


Strange Lights And The People Who Chase Them

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: Supernatural, Welcome to Night Vale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 18:39:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: The Winchesters, owners of Winchester's Auto, aren't exactly normal. Good thing they live in Night Vale.





	

A car drives on under a starless night. It leaves a track of rubber on the asphalt of the desert highway. The night is filled woth a quiet cold, the only light coming from the headkights of the car and the far-away, almost too far to be seem glows over a desert city. 

The car is an Impala. The driver is John Winchester, widower, father of two, hunter of supernatural things, which is what boring people call interesting things. One of these creatures killed his wife. They might kill one of his loved ones again. The road is lonely and cruel and the hunt more so, but John is tireless.

In the back seat of his car his sons sleep.  _They_ are tired, as children usually are this time of the night. So far their lives have been a collection of roads much like this one, motel rooms blurring togethers, schools and classmates all temporary fixations on an existance dependent on the whims of a revenge-obsessed man. They are good children never the less, good soldiers. The youngest son, whose name is Sam, is leaning against the oldest son, Dean. Sam is warm, under most of the the thin blacket, moth-eaten and worn, but Dean shivers. At the wheel, his father is still and cloaked in shadow, the only thing visible from the back the glint of his eyes reflecting white headlight. 

Suddenly, the temperature rises, as if damn has come without its custumary colors, or indeed wothout the sun. John tightens his hold on the wheel while Dean sighs, finally warm. He feels as if something great, greater than anything he ever felt before had wrapped itself around him. Like a blanket, or a protection spell, or the ancient wards of an even more ancient kingdom. The Impala's radio, turned down so as not to wake the boys, goes from The Doors to the Kansas' _Wayward Son_ with a brief staticky transition _._

To the side of the highway, the sign rises, a great eye overseeing the lonely car amd the sleeping, but never restful city. _Welcome to Night Vale,_ it says, in purple words that change into glyphs on the seventh day of every other month. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are welcome


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